


Sweet Confusion

by balimaria



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Additional Character Tags to be Added, Alternate Universe - Beekeepers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But He Gets Better, But I'm A Perfectionist, But It Won't Just Be a Fluffy Beekeeper AU ;), Canon-Typical Worms (The Magnus Archives), Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Georgie and Jon are still friends btw, Getting Together, Gratuitous Use of Worm Headcannons, It's not super relevant but still, Jon Loves His Bees, Jon is A Grumpy Bastard, M/M, Magnus Institute Will Become Involved, Martin Makes the Best Tea, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Projecting My Tea Preferences Onto Jon, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, TOO MUCH, Trans Martin Blackwood, Weird Plot Shit, You Have No Idea How Much Beekeeping Research I've Done For This, lots and lots of bees
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:08:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24782071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/balimaria/pseuds/balimaria
Summary: After breaking up with Georgie, Jon had two options- accept an archivist position from the Magnus Institute, or start over completely.He chooses the second one. Jon picks up his whole life and moves to Scotland. The career choices are limited, but there is something he's always wanted to try... and, well, if his neighbor three minutes over happened to be doing the same thing, then that was just a coincidence. A very annoying coincidence, as said neighbor won't stop coming by for...visits.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 15
Kudos: 84





	1. Prologue: Pink Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> I was shook when I discovered that there were no beekeeping AUs on AO3. So, of course, the only option was to write one myself! This ain't just your average fluffy slow-burn romance story though- no, this one's gonna have plot! and suffering! and WORMS! Because I thought it'd be too boring otherwise :)
> 
> Anyways, for a bit more insight- Jon /has/ worked at the Institute, but only as a researcher. When Elias offered him the archivist position, he refused in favor of becoming a Scottish beekeeper (which, honestly, who wouldn't.) Martin never came to the Institute, and had been working as a keeper on his own for a while. Sasha and Tim are still at the Institute, and while the logical thing to do would be Elias promoting Sasha to archivist, he decided that he's just gonna be a sexist little bitch and get Jon involved whether he likes it or not!
> 
> So yeah! Uh, updates come whenever I feel like it... and I think that's it? So, enjoy!

Jon sighed deeply as he pulled on a bee suit, managing to both fumble with the sleeves _and_ the legs. Hive inspections were assuredly not his favorite part of being a keeper (it showed,) but when the weather was so nice you really couldn’t justify putting it off. Besides, Martin would likely be doing his inspections today as well- Jon would never live it down if the man found out that Jon was secretly a fatal procrastinator. 

So, despite his desire to sit inside his lovely Scottish abode and read for another hour, Jon zipped up the front of the suit, popped on a veil, and tugged a pair of gloves over his hands with a snap. It was a hot day, unusually so for the country- though that _was_ what made it a good time for inspection. But it also made it a very bad time for wearing the suit. The one he had bought had claimed to be ventilated, but after nearly half a year of using it, Jon was pretty sure that was a complete and utter lie. It would be hot and sweaty and he’d have to lug his stupid smoker all the way to the apiary. At least it would be done, though.

But a knock on his door interrupted any hope of that happening.

Jon grit his teeth and dejectedly tossed the veil off his head and onto his couch. Not even bothering to remove the gloves as well, he twisted the doorknob to find out who had decided to so kindly come and visit.

There was really only one person it could be, though.

“Ah, Martin,” Jon greeted, trying to forcibly inject some politeness into his voice. “How nice of you to come by. What can I do for you?”

Martin was sweating bullets, likely from his walk over. He was fiddling with his jumper, just like he always did. It also took him a second to process the question, catch his breath, and compose an answer, as it always did. Jon waited semi-patiently.

“Whew!” he huffed eventually. “Sorry, Jon. It’s sweltering out! I- well, I didn’t think I’d get so… ah. Well, anyways!” he picked back up. “Um, I hope I’m not interrupting or anything, but can I ask you a favor?”

Jon smiled tightly. “Sure thing, Martin.”

Martin beamed, and despite himself, Jon felt the tension fade a little.

“Oh, thank you! So, the thing is- I was gonna inspect my apiary today… and uh, well- it looks like you were too…” Martin laughed awkwardly. “But the thing is,” he continued. “My smoker’s busted, and normally I’d just do it anyways, but my bees are kinda aggressive today- and, well… you know how much I hate being stung,” he ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up in absurd places. “So, I was wondering if I could borrow yours? Since I can’t really afford a new one…”

Jon sighed, and with it came his reluctant agreement. 

“Sure thing, Martin.”

Martin breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank you!” he said. “I really owe you one-” 

Jon cut him off.

“On one condition.”

Martin’s mouth snapped shut. “Uh, okay?”

“I need to finish _my_ inspection first. You can wait here, or… in the apiary, I guess.”

Then, without another word, Jon turned on his heel, slipped his veil back on, and opened the back door, letting pink-tinged sunlight spill onto the floorboards.

=====

Martin wasn’t stupid. He could tell that Jonathan Sims didn’t like him. Not even love-like him. The guy just thought he was annoying. Martin could respect that, but it seemed like the universe could not. Dumb, inconvenient things were always happening to him. Not enough honey jars. Dead queens. Busted smokers. Maybe it was because he had to buy cheap stuff, maybe not. But he always found himself having to make the walk to Jon’s place every week or so with his latest need.

Honestly, it was no wonder Jon hated him. Probably thought Martin was some kind of leech. Yet he hadn’t told him to get lost yet, so at least he wouldn’t be homeless as well as heartbroken.

...He’d tried to move on, really. But watching the way the pink sunlight framed Jon’s lanky figure, even with the bee suit on… well…

Martin wasn’t stupid. But he _was_ utterly hopeless. And the most minute of things kept reigniting that hope, again and again and again. Like how Jon had offered to let him come to his apiary with him. Or last week, when he’d accepted the mug of lukewarm tea Martin had brought to appease him.

It was unhealthy. It was an obsession. He was only hurting himself. He needed to focus on his bees, so he could earn some money, so his stupid mom wouldn’t die. He’d been doing well enough before Jon had moved here but of course he couldn't blame it on Jon because he didn't _know._

 _I guess I have it out for me too,_ he thought dejectedly.

Forcefully pushing his thoughts to the back of his mind, Martin followed Jon out into his backyard. It was larger than his- though not by much. He also had four apiaries compared to his three.

As Martin watched Jon stride over to the first one, he resisted the urge to… to…

 _What? Get in the way? Be a nuisance?_ his mind helpfully supplied. Martin scowled, glad that Jon was focused on his inspection. 

Deciding to just _stop thinking,_ Martin quietly observed Jon as he went about his work. He’d already finished noting down the activity of the bees (Martin wasn’t quite sure how he did it with gloves on) and was proceeding to remove the lid and supers, gently placing them on the grass next to the apiary. The hive now open to the air, Jon placed the nozzle of the smoker at the exposed colony, letting the dark clouds puff sparingly inside. 

Jon was so methodical. Martin scowled at himself _again._ Honestly, who got flustered at someone being _methodical?_

When his attention drifted back to Jon, he found that he’d already removed an end frame and was shaking the brood comb free of straggling honey bees.

...It was hard to see through the veil, but Martin could’ve sworn Jon was smiling. Jon… really, genuinely liked his bees.

Martin didn’t know why that came as a shock to him. Why else would he be a keeper? But it just seemed so… unlike Jon to truly _enjoy_ anything. 

Martin chided himself. Being rude to your crush drastically decreased the chances of ever getting married. Not that Martin was thinking about that, or anything.

He only half watched as Jon finished his inspection. It took about seven minutes, but it seemed like seconds to Martin.

All too soon, he was back on the path to his house, Jon’s smoker wrapped firmly in his arms. The sun beat down hot on his back, causing sweat to soak through his jumper. Why had he even worn a jumper? What was he thinking?

Jon smiling as a bee crawled along his arm instantly came to mind.

Yeah, that seemed about right.


	2. Counting Seconds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning.

Jon woke early the next morning. The weather was back to its usual overcast, and a light drizzle pattered monotonously against the windowpane. He breathed deep, savoring the last dredges of warmth from his bed before flipping off the covers and getting to his feet. He’d have to check the apiary and make sure none of the colonies had been knocked over- even in a drizzle, Jon didn’t want to risk the chance of water getting lodged in the supers.

Not bothering to change, Jon tugged on his shoes and nudged open the door. A drop of water immediately splashed into his eye. Grumbling, he furiously wiped it out. Once his vision had focused, he made a quick sweep over the apiary. Nothing had been knocked over- not that he was really expecting that, in such a light rain, but it never hurt to check. 

He trotted over to the first apiary, giving it a quick once over to make sure no water had seeped through. All the bees would be inside taking shelter, so he didn’t bother checking the brood combs. It’d only harm them if they got shaken out into this weather.

Finding nothing wrong with the other apiaries, Jon allowed himself a small smile. It’d be a day off for him. Not that he really had much of a schedule in the first place, but still.

He took a step back towards the door and immediately stopped. A thick crunching noise had sounded beneath his shoe, giving him pause. For a terrifying moment, Jon wondered if he’d accidentally stepped on one of his bees. But he shook the thought off soon enough- bees probably didn’t sound like popcorn when you stepped on them.

A little nervously, Jon lifted his foot. He cringed as a line of translucent slime clung to his sole. Crouching down regardless, he inspected the earth for… whatever it was.

It was... some kind of worm…? Maybe? More like a cross between a worm and a maggot. Jon’s heart started fluttering instantly. If some kind of exotic pest had infected his apiary…

He looked closer, noting down the details for an internet search. It had a thin, off-white body segmented like a caterpillar’s, with deep black innards showing through the shell. Its head was definitely more maggot than worm- small, hard, and colored the same deep black as its guts. It was equipped with a larger-than-average pair of mandibles.

Jon stepped away cautiously, feeling more than nervous despite the fact that it was dead. He rushed back inside, flinging open his laptop and madly scrabbling at the keys.

_Honey bee pests_

Jon had a fairly good knowledge of pests, but this wasn’t like anything he’d seen before. He scoured through the first three links before coming across something that looked vaguely like what he’d found. Waxworms- similar, but much thicker, and more caterpillar than worm. Not what he was looking for.

_Large white worms_

His next search served him no better. Images of pinworms and threadworms appeared, but they were all wrong. Too small, no mandibles. Not the same color.

Growing desperate, Jon tried one last search.

_White worms by apiary_

Nothing, just more results for waxworms. 

Jon slammed his laptop shut in frustration. Of course something like this would happen to him, right when he actually got a decent gig going. He thought he’d escaped inexplicable stuff when he’d moved from London, but apparently he was just _cursed._

Or… something of the like. Jon didn’t know- he was tired and worried about his bees and really just wanted to go back to sleep. But that wasn’t an option now. He’d have to find someone to consult, someone who’d been keeping longer than him…

Jon groaned loudly. Of course this would happen.

_I’ll never live this down, will I?_

But he valued his bees above his pride, so he made a vain attempt to fix his hair and smooth out his clothes before stepping outside.

The Scottish countryside shone with rain, forest green hills as vibrant as a beetle’s shell. Small rocks and cliffs jutted through the brush, matching the deep gray of the sky while the lichen matched the grass. Herds of highland cattle gathered in clusters, contained by rose-wood fences and barbed wire. Distant farms cut into the sky, giving the lonely countryside a bit more mirth.

Honestly, Jon didn’t know how he’d ever lived in London when this was here.

But he had more to do than admire the country. His bees could be in danger, and he cared more about them than anything else.

=====

Jon wasn’t quite sure if the walk seemed longer or shorter than usual. Not that he’d needed to make it nearly as much as Martin did, but there had been some things he’d needed more experienced advice upon. Strange hive activity, freaky maggot-worms, the like. Stuff that couldn’t be answered by a quick computer search. Martin always seemed to become instantly _less_ experienced whenever Jon told him that he needed expert advice, though. Which was… inconvenient, to say the least. But it was better than nothing. 

Finally, Jon made it to where Martin’s house sat, tightly clutched between two pines. He stepped up the front porch, being careful of the rotten third floorboard, as Martin had told him to. Then he breathed in, swallowed his pride, and rapped twice on the door.

As the first minute inched by, Jon wondered if Martin was even home. A small seed of anxiety started growing in his stomach.

Two minutes. Jon knocked again.

Three. _Finally,_ the door swung open. 

Martin’s hair was wet. That was the first thing Jon noticed. The second thing was that he was only wearing trousers. 

As soon as Martin seemed to process the fact that it was Jon standing in the doorway, his face flushed a deeper red then he had ever seen on… well, anyone. 

“O-oh!” he stammered, his voice nearly an octave higher than usual. “God, Jon, I’m so sorry- I, uhm… shit-”

Martin was nervously twiddling with the hem of the binder he was wearing. Jon put a hand up reassuringly.

“Don’t worry, Martin. I don’t care. Put on a shirt if you’d like, and then may I ask you something?”

Martin was silent for a second. Then he smiled, turned, and vanished back inside.

Jon waited on the veranda, trying to compose what he was going to say. It wasn’t like it was a hard question to ask, but Jon still didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of Martin, of all people.

The squealing of the door signaled Martin’s return. He was now wearing a light cotton shirt, and his hair had been messily dried. He smiled nervously at Jon, cocking his head questioningly.

Jon dived right into it.

“I need your advice on something, Martin,” he began. “When I went out to check on the apiary this morning, I managed to step on something in my yard. It was worm-like, maybe three inches long and half an inch thick. The outer skin was off-white, with a small black head, like a maggot. I did a quick search, but couldn’t find anything that resembled it. I came to ask if you’ve ever seen anything like it- I’m afraid it may be some kind of pest, and I don’t want my bees to be hurt.”

Jon finished with a raised eyebrow at Martin. The man’s eyes were drifting over the countryside, his brow furrowed in thought.

“Well…” he said eventually. “That is rather strange. My first thought was waxworms, but I assume that was yours too. In which case… I’m really not quite sure. Um, sorry,” he finished guiltily.

Jon sighed, then nodded. He hadn’t retained high hopes in the first place, but it was still a disappointment. The seed of anxiety began to grow a little bigger.

“Well, thank you anyways, Martin. I’ll be on my way now.”

Jon turned on his heel and began to make his way back home. But he was halted by Martin’s sudden cry of “wait!”

Jon glanced over his shoulder. Martin had come running up, his hand raised to grab Jon’s attention.

“...Yes?” he asked warily. 

“Uh, well, I thought that maybe… if, um-” Martin stuttered.

“Spit it out, Martin,” Jon snarled. Then winced at himself. “Sorry,” he muttered.

It took Martin a moment to pick back up, but he managed to get through the sentence in one go. “Well, I thought that maybe if I could come over and have a look at it, I might have a better idea of what could be the problem. Is… that okay…?”

Jon blinked, chewing on the inside of his lip.

“Do what you want,” he said finally. Then turned and kept walking.

Martin’s trailing footfalls rang acutely in his ears.

=====

They made it back with no issue. While Jon hadn't really been expecting issues, he couldn’t be too careful.

By the time he reached his front door he’d nearly forgotten that Martin was following him. The man was absurdly quiet. It was a little… unsettling. And Jon really didn’t need more unsettling things today. Regardless, he pulled open the door, and waved a hand to gesture Martin inside.

Jon didn’t bother with showing Martin around. He’d been inside Jon’s house enough times to know how many planks there were in the floor. So he simply led him to the other side of the house and out the backdoor. 

“Alright,” Jon said. “Should be around here somewhere.”

They searched the whole yard for nearly ten minutes, getting thoroughly drenched in the process. But there was neither hide nor hair of the worm-thing.

Finally, Jon gave up. He called Martin back inside and sat him on the couch.

“It’s gone,” he ranted. “Just like that! The rain is too light to wash it away, and it hasn’t been long enough for anything to eat it. It just doesn’t add up!” 

Jon was barely paying attention to Martin at this point, too lost in the worry and confusion. But when he finally looked back to the couch, all he saw was a damp patch where his sodden clothes had leaked into the fabric. 

Jon spun, staring around frantically. It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for, though.

Martin was dipping tea bags into two steaming mugs of water, humming a simple tune as he did so.

“I got your favorite, Jon,” he said merrily, completely killing all tension. “I know you just love ginger. Can’t say I’m a fan of spicier teas, but it's hardly bad, even so.”

Jon blinked, bemused, as Martin handed him a mug. He took the handle purely out of shock. 

Martin began to look a little concerned when all Jon did was stare into the tea.

“Um, ginger is your favorite tea, right?” he asked. “I could’ve sworn you told me that…”

Jon shook his head. “No, it is my favorite, I’m just... nevermind.”

Martin returned to his seat on the couch, while Jon remained standing. After a moment of thought, Jon spoke again. “Uhm… not to be rude, but why did you make me tea exactly…?”

Martin huffed out a laugh. “Oh, you were just getting kind of worked up. I didn’t want you to have like, a panic attack over your bees, or something.”

Jon nodded, and hesitantly took a sip.

It was _good._ Really good. Jon tried not to let it show on his face, but he couldn’t keep himself from draining the cup in nearly a minute.

When he looked up, Martin was frowning at him again. “Um… that was really hot,” he said. “Are you… like, okay?”

Jon just nodded, ignoring the way his tongue was likely burned now. He didn’t really care. Martin had brought him tea before, but never fresh from the kettle. Jon was… kind of surprised that Martin was so talented at- well, anything. No offense.

“Thank you, Martin,” he said gently. And Martin beamed his gigawatt smile and Jon couldn’t help but return it with a small quirk of his lips. 

“I’m still worried about my bees, though.”

Jon had quite possibly just killed whatever was just happening, but he wasn’t sure. He’d never been good at reading the room. And anyways, it was true. He quite liked his bees.

“Of course, Jon,” Martin reassured. “But it was just one worm. And anyways, it’s gone now. I’m sure you and your bees will forget about it in a week. Don’t worry.”

Jon nodded his assent, but it didn’t help to quell the anxiety now crawling into his throat.

Martin left after he finished his tea, waving a happy goodbye before letting the door swing shut behind him. Jon just kept standing, staring into his empty mug of tea.

_Martin’s right,_ he tried to convince himself. _This’ll all blow over. The bees will be fine._

Jon slept fitfully that night. There were no more worms when he went to check the apiary the next morning, but he still couldn’t quite crush the foreboding gnawing at his thoughts.

He wanted to call Martin. They’d exchanged phone numbers on business terms awhile back, though the only thing they’d ever used it for was once, when Martin had left his keys at Jon’s. But Jon felt weird about having Martin over for the third time in as many days, so he decided against that. He scrolled down the rest of his not-very-large list of contacts. Georgie? They were still friends, even after their break up. But she wouldn’t understand something like this. Sasha? Busy, likely. It was still the middle of the day. Tim…? No, definitely not. He was more likely to just flirt with Jon, rather than helping him.

Eventually, he opted to leave the phone lying on the counter. He’d given up on human comfort, so Jon did the only other thing he could think of.

His bees were useful for more than just money making. When Jon found himself upset or nervous or anything of the like, he’d sit himself in the apiary and let them crawl up and down his skin. They always managed to make him smile again, no matter what.

This time was no different. The sky above was patchy, letting beams of sun slide in between the clouds. His bees made silhouettes against its brightness as they searched for flowers to pollinate. Martin and himself had both chosen this spot for a reason- there was a surplus of flowers here, and all the farmers had promised to keep their cattle enclosed. It was the perfect bee haven.

Jon looked down as a bee alighted on his leg. Its warm black eyes stared into his. Bees were smarter than your average insect, Jon knew. They could remember human faces easily. That simple fact never failed to make him smile. They knew who he was.

The day came and went without much activity. Jon collected some honey, shipped out some orders he’d received. And then hunkered down for the night. He fell asleep easily.

By the next week, Jon _had_ nearly forgotten about the worms. And while they did sit in the back of his mind, he always found something to distract himself. Even if it was dealing with touchy customers and poor service, it was better and frankly a lot more rational than _worms._

When Martin came by to return Jon’s smoker, he didn’t even feel his usual spark of annoyance at the unannounced visit. 

His bees seemed to reflect his mood as well. They buzzed happily about, pollen falling like pixie dust from their legs. They were so carefree, only concerned about their nest and their queen and which flower to choose next.

A strange thought popped into Jon’s mind as he watched them. Some bees would transfer colonies… so how many of _Martin’s_ bees did he actually have? And what about the other way around?

It didn’t really bother him, to be honest. He loved any and all bees regardless. That’s why he’d ditched the researcher gig and came here. Not really like he’d left anything behind, Jon had only had things to gain.

He wondered what Jon from a few years ago would think of it all. Not like it really mattered, but it was a curious thought experiment.

A bee flew in front of the window, bumping gentle against the pane. Jon smiled at it, watching it attempt to get inside. Despite himself, he slid the window open and welcomed it in.

He’d make sure to keep an eye on it, so that it wouldn’t become trapped. But for now, it was nice to have a bit of company.


End file.
